Gabriel
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Matthew was the only person who was there for her, who she could depend on. She needed him now more than ever, to lead her out of the darkness.


_May, 1985_

"Do you think the baby knows what happened?" Emily asked softly.

Matthew turned his head to look at her. She wasn't looking at him, her gaze trained deliberately on the nighttime tableau laid out below them at the foot of the hill, the full moon hanging low and heavy in the sky, seeming to make the Coliseum glow.

"Well..." he said slowly, unsure how exactly to answer, "The Bible says..."

She shook her head. "No, what do _you _think?"

He sighed, reluctantly admitting, "Yes."

That seemed to be the answer she had been expecting. She didn't say anything for a long time, merely nodding and pursing her lips thoughtfully.

Those lips... He longed to kiss them, to know how they felt, how they tasted. They'd been the first thing he noticed about her – the way she nervously chewed her bottom lip as she was shown to her desk in the middle of History class, the way they quirked up a little more on the right than the left when she flashed him an awkward shy smile.

He reminded himself not to stare as she finally broke her silence again. "Do you think the baby knows why? That I just couldn't be a mother?"

He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to hear. "I think the baby is in heaven, looking down on you, and it can hear everything you wish you could say."

She looked at him then, brow raised and signature look of disbelief in place. "But Father Guimino said that if I..." She turned away, her eyes shut. "That the baby would go to hell, that _I _would go to hell."

"Em, I told you, he doesn't know shit," he told her with complete conviction. "I refuse to believe in a God that would condemn an innocent baby, without the ability to harm another soul, let alone the thought."

She shook her head. "You're just saying that. It's a nice fairytale, but it's not real." Classic Emily Prentiss, always her own worst enemy.

"I would _never _lie to you, Emily." He reached over and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

She looked down at their joined hands, but refused to meet his eyes. And as the light of their little fire cast flickering light on her cheeks, he saw the glint of her tears and knew why.

She sniffled quietly and, in a wavering voice asked, "Should I...name the baby? I mean, I know I can't bury it or anything and it's not like anyone would ever know, but..."

He stemmed the flow of her words, replying, "I think it would help you heal. The baby was real – to you, to me, and it deserves to be known as more than 'it' or 'baby'."

"But I don't know anything about it," she sighed bleakly, "Or even if it were a boy or a girl. This is stupid." She tore a handful of grass out of the ground, then turned her palm towards the sky and let the breeze carry the blades away.

"Nothing you're feeling right now is stupid," he persisted, "You're grieving." But she was stubborn, so he gently nudged her in the right direction, "Emily, I think a new angel deserves an angel name..."

She sucked in a shaky breath and wiped away tears with her wrist. "Gabriel?" she suggested, so quietly he nearly missed it.

"That's beautiful," he reassured, "For a boy or a girl."

"Gabriel Prentiss," she said slowly, as if testing it out, seeing how the words felt falling from her lips. Then, her negativity once again resurfaced, "They're just words...it's not enough. It doesn't make up for ending a life, nothing does."

"Emily, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but nothing we can do is going to change what happened – it's in the past now."

She gave a derisive snort. "Gee, you're a great motivational speaker."

"That came out wrong," he winced as she withdrew into herself. "You did what you had to do because you couldn't have had a baby right now, but that doesn't mean you have to pretend the baby never existed. You _are _a mother; a mother who lost her baby."

"You're just telling me what I want to hear."

"Emily, you're in denial because you feel guilty...one day you're going to see that you couldn't possibly raise a baby all by yourself at fifteen, even though you're the strongest, smartest, most capable person I know."

"Can't you just let a girl wallow in her well-deserved misery?" she asked, flopping back in the grass.

He looked down at her red-rimmed eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and still found beauty in her pale face. He lay back beside her, gently pulling her head to rest on his chest.

"Nope – you deserve to be happy and I am never going to let you forget that. Think what you want, Emily, but you are amazing. I know it seems like your life is over right now, but this is just something you'll one day look back on as having made you the person you'll grow up to be."

"When did you become so cheesy?" she asked dryly.

And he smiled to himself, knowing he'd made a difference. "I prefer to think of it as endearing." He flashed an overly cheerful grin for effect.

She sat up so that she could stare down at him, brow raised. "You're such a dork," she said, punching him in the shoulder.

"Hey!" he pouted, rubbing his shoulder melodramatically. "I'm rubber, you're glue..."

She rolled her eyes. "Quit being such a child."

"I know you are, but what am I?" he chortled, just because she'd said that.

She glared at him for another moment, then playfully tackled him to the ground. He gazed up at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as she pinned him down, demanding he admit her superiority.

"Hey," he said softly, suddenly serious again, "You know I love you, right?"

She rolled off him with a sigh. "I know."

But she didn't say it back. He'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that she would likely never feel quite the same way about him as he felt about her.

He probably could've leaned over and kissed her in that moment and she probably wouldn't have pushed him away…but that wasn't how he wanted things between them to be. She was vulnerable and in pain right now and he would never take advantage of her – the day she'd cried in his arms, spilling her heart out to him as the pregnancy test dried on the sink, he'd vowed to himself that he would _never_ be like John Cooley. In fact, he hadn't spoken a word to his _former_ friend since that day; not only for what he'd done to Emily, but because John had _known _how he felt about her...

But that didn't mean it didn't pain him to know that this is all he would likely ever have with her. With a wistful sigh, he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around the cold metal chain. "I got you something..."

She fixed him with a stern glare. "Matthew Lucas Benton, I told you not to do anything else – you've already done more for me than I deserve."

He held up a hand to stop her. "Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, I don't care what you told me. You're my best friend and I want you to have this." He moved behind her to fasten the chain around her neck.

She gingerly fingered the small charm, eyeing it curiously; the colored stone of the body, the crystal wings, the small pearl head encircled by a metal halo. "I don't understand," she said, turning her honey-brown doe eyes towards his.

"It would have been Gabriel's birthstone," he explained. "This way, you've always got a little part of him or her to carry with you and remember."

Her eyes welled up with tears once again and she leaned over to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "Matthew, you're the best friend I've ever had," she said quietly, once again staring out at some distant point in the sky. "I wish there was some way I could thank you...you've done more for me than you could ever understand."

He wanted to tell her that he hadn't done it for her thanks, that she never needed to repay him, but for now, he let the silence remain.

"Do you think Gabriel is looking down on us right now?" she whispered, "From heaven?"

"I know she is. And she's proud of her Mommy." He interlaced their fingers again, letting their hands rest in the cool grass as they watched the world keep on turning below them.


End file.
